


This Could Be Easy

by caramelle



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cops, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, mostly just sethkate being badass tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 00:57:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8556373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelle/pseuds/caramelle
Summary: It's not that Kate was trying to get partnered up with Seth Gecko. Honestly, she wasn't.She just happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and sorely under-informed on extenuating circumstances.  Or, the one where Kate is a newly minted detective, and Seth is the grouchy old-timer she gets stuck with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i blame at least thirty percent of this on [Nai](http://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer/pseuds/twilightstargazer).
> 
> (title from 'Upgrade U' by Beyoncé bc me titling my fics after Bey songs is the true indication of entering true fandom trashhood)

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's not that Kate was _trying_ to get partnered up with Seth Gecko. Honestly, she wasn't.

 

She just happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and _sorely_ under-informed on extenuating circumstances.

 

"But I didn't _know_ ," she protests nervously, unable to take her eyes off the window of the captain's office despite the blinds pulled down over the glass. "Captain Ilhicamina won't _actually_ suspend me, will he?"

 

Kisa shrugs, barely sparing her a glance as she shuffles through her paperwork. "Who the fuck knows what Cap's gonna do? _Cap_ barely knows what he's gonna do half the time."

 

Kate sighs frustratedly, dropping her head into her hands. "I _arrested_ him. I arrested _Seth freaking Gecko_!"

 

"You didn't know," Kisa reminds her calmly, setting aside a thick file.

 

"Exactly!" Kate exclaims, springing back up. "How the heck was I supposed to know he's with us!"

 

Kisa exhales heavily, finally looking up. " _Kate_. I wouldn't worry too much about it, okay? Seth's been undercover for over four years. Barely anyone here even _knew_ he was still playing double agent for us. No one expects you to have recognised him."

 

"No one except _him_ ," Kate mutters dejectedly, glancing back over to the covered window. "You saw the way he was yelling at me. I mean, he was really going _on_."

 

Kisa shrugs, turning back to her work. "That's just Seth. Overreacting is kind of his thing."

 

Kate groans, slapping her palm over her eyes. "Great start to the year, Fuller. Piss off the guy who's the police department's biggest asset with taking down the _biggest drug cartel in the tri-state area_. Oh, and, by the way, he's _also_ a huge drama queen." She shakes her head. "Fantastic stuff."

 

"At least you didn't shoot him," Kisa offers helpfully.

 

Kate shoots her a wry grimace — but she's right, of course. There are much worse mistakes any rookie could have, _would_ have made.

 

It's just that she's all of three months in on the job, and last night had been her first _real_ raid as a newly minted, fully fledged detective. She'd just _barely_ managed to take down Seth Gecko, too. In fact, it was pretty much entirely thanks to the element of surprise that had had him face down on the ground within ten seconds.

 

 _God_. She'd had him _face down_ on the ground, thrown flat on his stomach, with his cheek pressed to the pavement like some kind of fucking _criminal_.

 

Combine all that with the heated rant he had hurled at her once he'd gotten himself out of the cuffs (within a scarily impressive five seconds), top everything off with the irascible glare he'd shot her way right before ducking into the passenger seat of the Captain's car, and, yeah, well, it's pretty hard for her to see any kind of silver lining right now.

 

Aside from the fact that tomorrow's Saturday, maybe.

 

The door to the Captain's office flies open with a loud bang.

 

"Fuller!" a familiar, gruff voice yells. "In here, now!"

 

Kate jumps out of her seat. _This is it,_ she thinks fervently as she hurries over, as fast as her legs can take her without outright jogging. _This is the end of you, Kate. Say goodbye to your flourishing career in law enforcement._

 

She halts right after her first step through the doorway, glancing over her shoulder hesitantly. "Should I—"

 

"Shut the door," Captain Ilhicamina barks.

 

She just about manages to contain her startled jerk, and closes the door accordingly before turning round to see the Captain in his chair, staring across his desk at—

 

"Um," she says blankly.

 

Seth Gecko is sitting directly opposite the Captain, glaring right back at the older man without acknowledging her presence.

 

"Take a seat, Fuller," the Captain orders, waving at the empty chair beside Seth's.

 

Deciding this isn't a good time for _'I'd rather stand'_ , she quickly obeys. "What's this about, sir?"

 

"Your Captain," Seth abruptly announces, "has a dumb fucking idea."

 

She blinks, already whipping round to stare at him before she can quite help it.

 

" _You're_ a dumb fucking idea, Gecko," the Captain returns easily, spinning back and forth in squeaky half-circles on his chair.

 

"Nice, Burt," Seth snaps bitterly, his low voice rough. "Like a real fucking grown-up."

 

Kate's eyes are fully goggled by now, and she stares blankly between the two men for nearly a full five seconds before she manages to catch herself. "Sorry," she begins, frowning at the Captain. "I don't— uh, what?"

 

The Captain bares his teeth in a wicked grin. "Detective Fuller, meet your new partner: Detective Gecko."

 

"You old bastard," Seth growls.

 

" _What?_ " she blurts, her jaw dropping in utter disbelief.

 

The Captain spreads his hands wide. "Congrats, Gecko. She's _your_ problem now." He makes a shooing motion with his fingers, tauntingly dismissive. "Now both of you can get the hell out of my office."

 

Seth Gecko is already out of his chair, flinging the door open as he mutters something inaudible and sullen under his breath.

 

By the time Kate walks dazedly out of the Captain's office to blink hazily around the bullpen, he's already gone.

 

She does get a benign pat on the shoulder from Kisa, and a commiserating shake of the head from Freddie and a couple other old-timers when they drop by her desk one by one after hearing the news. She also gets a borderline creepy e-mail after lunch, from Dr. Tanner down in forensics.

 

She accepts the shoulder patting and the head shaking with relatively good grace, and sends the e-mail straight into the trash with a couple clicks of her mouse.

 

None of those things are remotely near enough to comfort her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

On Monday morning, Seth Gecko walks in ten minutes late, clad in a leather jacket and a pair of aviators. He barely spares her a glance beyond slamming his messenger bag on the empty desk opposite hers.

 

"Let's get moving, rookie," he grunts, already striding off.

 

She scrambles out of her chair and after him, shooting Kisa a confused look as she hurries past. The other woman merely shrugs, the barest hint of sympathy behind the movement.

 

They're in his car for a full seven minutes before she decides she's allowed to clear her throat.

 

"Not to be impertinent about it," she says, "but _where_ are we going?"

 

He snorts, throwing her a glance. She can't tell if he's genuinely amused behind his black aviators. " _'Impertinent'_ ," he repeats under his breath, shaking his head derisively. "Where the fuck did they dig _you_ up from?"

 

She bristles, glaring at him. "It's just a _word_. You know, one of those things people use? To _communicate_?"

 

Instead of responding, he leans over, reaching across her knees to flick the glove compartment open.

 

"Here," he says shortly, retrieving a thin folder and tossing it into her lap before shoving the glove box closed. "Let's play a little game, shall we?"

 

She glances at him warily before opening the folder. "I don't understand. We already caught them all in last week's bust."

 

"I spy with my little eye," Seth deadpans, his tone harsh. "One of these things is not like the others."

 

She holds back the irritated roll of her eyes, and focuses harder on the mugshots laid out on the page.

 

"Tick tock, princess," Seth says flatly, swerving into another lane.

 

She frowns, pressing a finger to the page where a name is printed in neat, even letters: _Carlos Madrigal_. "Him. I don't remember seeing him."

 

"Ding ding ding," Seth announces, completely unenthusiastically. "Give the princess a prize."

 

She slams the folder down onto her lap, glaring sharply at him. "It's _Fuller_. _Detective_ Kate Fuller."

 

He pulls the car to a sudden stop, whipping off his sunglasses and turning to face her, looking not even the slightest bit fazed by her heated correction. "Well, _Kate_ , I'm gonna let you in on a little secret. Last week, your little bit of let's-be-cops fun meant that this slippery _fucker_ got away. So right now, you'll forgive me if I'm just a _little_ testy, because the only thing standing between my brain and a fucking _lead bullet_ isn't whether you're any good at _playing_ cops. It's whether you're any good at actually _being_ a fucking cop." He cocks his head, expression hard. " _Comprender_?"

 

She forces herself not to break away from his glare, shoving the white hot rage bubbling up inside of her as far down as she can manage. She presses her lips together, setting her jaw stubbornly. "Badge."

 

He pauses. "What?"

 

"Your _badge_ , Detective," she snaps, tossing the item in question into the cup holder between them. Crossing her arms tightly over her middle, she holds his hard gaze. "Just a reminder, since you haven't _played cop_ in a while."

 

He reaches out slowly with one hand, picking up the badge before frowning at her. "How did—"

 

"Let's _move_ , Gecko," she bites out, roughly pushing off her seatbelt and yanking on the door handle. "You know, before this _fucker_ gets away from us, _again_."

 

He doesn't try to ask again how she'd snagged the badge out of his glove compartment without him noticing.

 

But when he comes round the car to join up with her on the sidewalk, his badge is clipped to his belt, right under the hem of his leather jacket.

 

"Just let me do the talking, all right," he says flatly as they walk up to the dingy old apartment building.

 

She doesn't mention the faint note of grudging approval in his voice.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Four days later, Kate's unceremoniously yanked from the depths of slumber by her phone going off at two in the morning, shrill and insistent.

 

"Hello?" she says blearily.

 

"New lead," Seth's clipped voice rings in through the speaker. "Pick you up in ten."

 

He doesn't even give her time to say _'okay'_ before he hangs up, the flat tone of the dead line cutting off whatever response she's trying to dredge up.

 

She's downstairs in eight minutes, fighting off a yawn as she huddles up against the night chill in the biggest jacket she owns, a black bomber-type number that reaches the tops of her thighs.

 

"Where?" she asks without preamble when she gets into the car.

 

"Strip club," he says shortly, shoving a plain Styrofoam cup at her as he peels away from the curb. She just barely manages to grab hold of it before he drops it entirely into her lap. "Over on Browning."

 

She gingerly pulls on the lid of the cheap cup, squinting in the dark car as she tries to peer into its contents.

 

"Low fat caramel macchiato," Seth deadpans. "Extra pump of caramel. Soy milk, of course."

 

"Oh, good," she retorts, unamused as she replaces the lid and brings the cup to her lips. It's definitely from a street vendor, and it's basically just coffee grounds and water, and it's really just about lukewarm, but, whatever, it's _caffeine_.

 

 

 

The lead comes up empty.

 

Seth drops her off at her building over an hour later, with not even so much as a quick _'bye'_ before he hits the gas and disappears with a screech of his tyres.

 

She collapses into bed, fully clothed, and falls asleep almost instantly — until her alarm goes off three hours later, rousing her for work.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Kisa walks into the break room one day to the sight of Kate slumped over, face down on the table.

 

"How's it going with Seth?" Kisa asks, sliding into the chair opposite the younger detective.

 

Kate mumbles inaudibly, waving a careless hand without lifting her head from the table.

 

"That good, huh," Kisa comments as she pops the top off her salad.

 

"Rookie!" Seth's head pokes into the doorway of the break room, a scowl on his face. "The fuck are you doing? Let's get ramblin'!" He snaps his fingers roughly before disappearing.

 

Kate's head rises from the table, her expression peculiarly serene.

 

"Tell my brother that he's _not_ , under _any_ circumstances, allowed to give me one of those open casket funerals," she says solemnly to Kisa as she pushes off the chair. Ignoring the other woman's uncharacteristically ungraceful snort, she grabs her jacket and strides out of the room.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"Let me do the talking."

 

Kate casts an annoyed glance at Seth, shrugging his jacket on as he walks around the car to where she's waiting on the sidewalk, bobbing restlessly on the balls of her feet. "Isn't that what I've been _doing_?" she says, not bothering to keep the note of exasperation out of her voice. "For the past, I don't know, _three weeks_?"

 

He stops, wheeling about to face her so his body is squarely in her path. The movement forces her to pull back, even though she's barely taken half a step forward.

 

"I mean it, rookie," he says, his tone full of warning. "Just leave this one to me, all right?"

 

She frowns, confused by his sudden, apparent preference for staring her down via the forehead instead of right in the eyes. "I got it."

 

Her bafflement only deepens when they walk up to the little shop, the bell above the door ringing in their entrance with incongruous cheer. A woman with dark hair looks up from a desk scattered with sketches and metal trays overflowing with ink and needles.

 

"We're closed," she immediately says when she sees them, her husky voice going completely flat as her gaze narrows on them.

 

Kate's brows draw together in a tight frown — who the hell is closed at _two in the afternoon_ — but Seth doesn't seem the slightest bit surprised by the tattooist's pronouncement.

 

"Come on, Sonja," he says, somehow authoritative but cajoling at the same time. "You're not gonna obstruct justice, are you?"

 

The woman scoffs, peeling off her rubber gloves. " _You're_ not justice, Gecko," she snorts. Her gaze flicks to Kate, standing just behind Seth. "Who's the little girl?"

 

Kate bristles, already taking half a step forward before she can think about it.

 

"Not a little girl," Seth cuts in smoothly, hands on his hips. "My partner."

 

Kate pauses, blinking up at the back of his head before recovering and crossing her arms over her middle, summoning up her best _serious cop_ face as she pulls herself up to her full height.

 

"Jesus Christ," Sonja says, her gaze raking over Kate. "They plucking them fresh outta high school these days or what?"

 

"I need information, Sonja," Seth grits out, his stance rigid. "You're the best goddamn forger within a twenty-mile radius. I know he's contacted you."

 

Sonja cocks a brow, propping one elbow against the table as she leans back in her chair lazily. "What? Not even a courtesy romp in the sack this time?" Her challenging gaze finds Kate, her brow arching even higher. "Your _partner_ here ever tell you about that? Or maybe he _showed_ you just how—"

 

"That's enough," Seth interrupts, taking a single, ominous step forward. Kate can't see his face, but the tightening in his shoulders and the brusque roughness of his tone is indication enough that he's not completely unaffected. "You're spilling the fucking beans on everything you've exchanged with Carlos in the last twelve weeks, Sonja. Every text, every e-mail, every word, every _fucking_ emoji."

 

Sonja's head tilts, her expression turning distinctly insolent. "Or what."

 

" _Or_ ," Kate says suddenly, heat prickling up her neck, "you're looking at a maximum sentence of twenty years _in federal prison_."

 

The ensuing silence is practically deafening in its loudness.

 

Suddenly, Sonja barks a laugh.

 

"Goddamn," she says, shaking her head at Kate with an air of indolent admiration. "You don't fuck around, do you, girlie?"

 

"It's 'Detective' to you," Seth says blandly, turning back to Sonja so Kate can't see the look on his face. He snaps his fingers roughly, waving snappy, prompting circles in the air. "Alright, move it, Sonja. We want everything you got."

 

Sonja smirks as she swivels about on her, taking her time to retrieve a black laptop sitting on the far corner of the desk. "Aye aye, Cap'n Justice."

 

 

 

Kate only notices the strange look Seth is giving her when they're back in the car.

 

"What?" she snaps, pulling her seatbelt across her chest. "She was kind of right, wasn't she? _You're_ not justice."

 

She accepts that she might very well be mistaken, but she thinks she catches the briefest glimmer of incredulous pride on his face, in that split second _right_ before he turns away to throw the car into gear.

 

She's not about to place any bets on it, though.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"Just out of curiosity," Kate asks conversationally, "have you ever taken a break in your life? Ever?"

 

Seth frowns, lowering the binoculars to glance at her, his brows furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

She shrugs, popping a curly fry into her mouth. "Just wondering. I mean, you spent four years running the drug ring undercover, and you took a grand total of _one weekend_ off before you were back at the station. I'm pretty sure you're entitled to some kind of generously extended leave." She glances out through the windshield. "Also, it's past four A.M., we have to be at work in less than four hours, and instead of being in _bed,_ like _normal people_ , we've spent the last five hours in your car, staking out an abandoned factory building because of a tip from a source you don't actually _trust_ , on the lookout for someone we don't even know actually _exists_."

 

Seth clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Trust me, rookie. Narciso Menendez exists."

 

"Someone whose existence we don't have any _formal record_ of, then," she amends unconcernedly, sipping coffee from a Styrofoam cup as she pulls out a folder. She pulls her feet up onto the seat, tucking them under her so she can prop the file open on her lap.

 

Seth scoffs. "If us cops had to rely exclusively on _formal records_ to get shit down, about ninety-two percent of all cases would go unsolved."

 

"That's a gross overestimation," she counters lightly, flipping through the folder. "It's also not the point. When's the last time you were off sick? Took a personal day? Went on a _vacation_?" She pauses to look up at him, squinting through the almost-darkness. " _Any_ of these words ringing a bell?"

 

"Real fuckin' adorable, princess," he grumbles, scowling through the binoculars. A couple of seconds later, he lowers them. "I went camping once. A while ago."

 

She lights up, genuinely interested. "How long ago?"

 

He shrugs. "I don't know. Oh-nine?"

 

"Oh my _God_ ," she marvels pityingly, shaking her head.

 

"Shut up," he mutters, shoving his hand into the paper bag wedged between their seats.

 

"Hey, you can't steal _all_ the fries just because I'm _right_!"

 

 

 

They don't catch Narciso Menendez that night.

 

They _do_ catch him the next night, though.

 

Seth crows endlessly about it the morning after. She rolls her eyes, and grudgingly offers to pay for takeout when they hang back a couple extra hours to finish up the small pile of paperwork that's been steadily growing on both their desks thanks to all the extra stakeouts.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

" _Fuller!_ In here, now!"

 

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she asks, striding into the Captain's office.

 

The Captain nods, not looking up from the sheets spread out over his desk. "How's the investigation going?"

 

She reels a little, caught off guard by the abrupt query. Wouldn't it make more sense for the Captain to wait till Seth's around, and call them _both_ in for an update?

 

"Well, sir," she answers briskly, clasping her hands behind her rigidly. "The fresh intel from Menendez really—"

 

"Fantastic," the Captain interrupts loudly. "And Gecko?"

 

She blinks, a jolt of clarity spiking through her.

 

"Detective Gecko and I are working well together, sir," she says clearly, shifting her weight evenly from one foot to the other.

 

"No problems?" the Captain grunts.

 

Her fingers clench tightly. "None to report, sir."

 

"Good," the Captain says shortly, finally looking up from his desk. "Now get out."

 

She nods, whirling around to march out of the room.  

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"We need to find her!"

 

Seth huffs exasperatedly, tossing the file in his hands away from him and onto the desk. "I'm telling you, Kate," he growls, his tone edged with irritation as he pushes the long sleeves of his black Henley up to his elbows, "let it the fuck _go_. Carlos never fucking _mentioned_ this Maia chick."

 

"That's why we need to find her," Kate argues as he strides past her to the whiteboard, pivoting on her heel so she can follow him with her determined gaze. "If you're right, and if Carlos _really_ did suspect you were a mole, then there's no way he'd tip you off to anyone he _really_ cared about! He'd never even have let you catch a whiff of her _name_."

 

Seth sighs sharply, propping his hands on his hips. "Listen — whoever this Maia woman is, she's just gonna turn out to be another dead end, all right? And I don't know about you, rookie, but after the last few weeks, I don't fucking _feel_ like chasing any more dead ends."

 

Kate presses her lips together, nodding jerkily as she crosses her arms. "Fine. Then I'll go."

 

Seth whips round to stare at her. " _What._ "

 

She shrugs, snatching up the file he's discarded. " _I'll_ find out if it's a dead end."

 

"The fuck you are. _No_."

 

"We'll divide and conquer," she continues stubbornly, swerving out from behind the desk to make for the door. "You can stay here and follow up on our other leads."

 

"I don't think so, rookie," he says flatly, throwing out an arm to block her when she tries to breeze past him.

 

"Out of my way, Gecko," she snaps, glaring up at him fiercely. Usually, she'd endeavour to show a _little_ more courtesy to her co-workers… but it's four hours past the end of her shift, she's had about twelve cumulative hours of sleep the whole _week_ , and this is the first solid lead they've landed on in _days_.

 

Also, if she's being completely, one hundred percent honest, they've been holed up in this tiny briefing room for pretty much the entire day, and she just really wants to get the hell _out_ before she spontaneously combusts, or does something equally inadvisable. Like shoot Seth fucking Gecko in the fucking face.

 

He studies her for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

 

Suddenly, he turns, grabbing his phone from the edge of the table.

 

She follows him out of the briefing room, casting a vaguely bewildered look his way as she walks past him holding the door open for her.

 

"Please," he scoffs gruffly, snagging his jacket and keys off his desk as they pass it on their way to the exit. "I've _seen_ you drive, princess."

 

Her jaw drops. "I'm not _that_ bad!"

 

 

 

Seth doesn't say anything when their encounter with Maia unearths some genuinely solid information with regard to Carlos' whereabouts.

 

He does end up with a cut on his jaw, though, thanks to the three-inch heel of Maia's right boot.

 

Kate insists on patching him up once they get back to the precinct, cornering him at his desk with the station's first aid kit. They discuss their next move as she dabs ointment on the cut and peels adhesive protectors off Band-Aids, tossing them into the wastepaper bin beside his desk.

 

She counts it as a win when he lets her choose the fast food they bring with them on their next stakeout, though.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Six days later, Kate's starting to seriously reconsider every choice she's made leading up to this moment: her trapped in a chokehold, her back pressed to her hulking captor's front, the barrel of a .45 jutting into her temple.

 

She damn near _cries_ in relief when the thunderous commotion outside the door culminates in the cheap wood being broken clean through, the remains of the door swinging violently on its hinges as Seth Gecko crashes through.

 

"Don't you fuckin' _move_ , you son of a—"

 

Seth stops abruptly, lowering his gun as his brows snap together.

 

" _Richie_?!"

 

She stares at him, frozen in shock as her captor straightens behind her, melting into a relaxed stance. "Oh, hey, brother. When the hell did you get back on the force?"

 

Seth's jaw opens and shuts reflexively. "The fuck are you talking about, I was _always_ on the— Jesus fuck, Richie, let her _go_!"

 

The arm hooked around her neck instantly loosens. The cold metal of the gun drops from her head, and the arm banded around her middle slackens completely, freeing her arms from where they're trapped against her side.

 

"She with you?" the man asks mildly as she stumbles away from him, Seth's fingers instantly wrapping around her elbow to steady her. "Dude, you should've said something."

 

"I didn't know it was _you_ , you fucking idiot," Seth retorts, tugging on her arm so she turns to face him. "Kate. _Kate_ , you all right?"

 

She nods, looking distractedly between him and the man who, up until ten seconds ago, she'd been absolutely sure was going to _kill her_. "Yeah, I— sorry, did you just say ' _brother_ '?"

 

 

 

Ten minutes later, they're seated in a small, dim office, the walls covered with replicas of Renaissance-era hell paintings.

 

"That one's my favourite," Richard Gecko informs her as he sets two glasses of scotch in front of them.

 

She blinks, tearing her gaze from the one right opposite her, a poetically horrific piece depicting a snake devouring a man whole. "Oh, uh, none for me, thanks."

 

Seth doesn't hesitate, swiping up her glass to pour its contents in with the rest of his. "The hell are you doing here, Richie? I thought you were running the game in fucking Mexico."

 

"Carlos is a huge fucking thorn in many an ass, Seth," Richie says nonchalantly as he takes the plush seat behind the desk, his own glass of scotch in hand. "You're not the only one who wants to see him go down."

 

"So their winning strategy is to send an even _bigger_ ass after him?" Seth shoots back, shaking his head as he takes a generous gulp of scotch.

 

Kate tries not to stare, but it's also the first time she's ever seen Seth Gecko _grinning_.

 

Richie shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips as he raises his glass. "You know what they say about fighting fire." His gaze slides over to Kate as he sips on his drink. "Sorry about the whole neck thing, by the way."

 

She shakes her head automatically. "It's fine." _I guess_ , she adds silently. Honestly, she's still just supremely confused about this whole situation.

 

Then again, if there's anybody who'd dedicate his life to law enforcement and _also_ be cool with having a close family member actively involved in several major illegal rackets, Seth Gecko seems like he'd be it.

 

"Un-fucking-believable," Seth grumbles, gesturing sharply so that the ice cubes clink loudly in his glass. "Fuckin' check your facts _before_ you start strangling the life outta people."

 

"I already said _sorry_ ," Richie protests with a dispassionate shrug. "I even returned her firearm and everything."

 

"It's fine, really," Kate cuts in, brushing the back of her hand over Seth's arm before turning back to Richie. "What can you tell us about the people that are after Carlos Madrigal?"

 

 

 

"Sorry, by the way."

 

Kate blinks, looking round to find Richie beside her, silent as death. "It's really fine," she says, shaking her head. "I mean, I don't think I'm even going to bruise or anything—"

 

"No, I mean about him."

 

Kate frowns, following the nudge of his chin to where Seth is across the room, hanging back to exchange a few words with one of Richie's people he apparently knows from before, a man called Machado.

 

Her nose wrinkles as she glances back up at Richie. "I don't—"

 

Richie gives her a knowing look, laced with quiet exasperation. "Seth's all the family I've got in the world, Kate. He practically _raised_ me. If there's anyone out there, cop or criminal, who knows just how much of a dick my brother can be, trust me — it's me."

 

She opens and closes her mouth before giving up, huffing a low laugh as she nods slowly, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "He's… difficult, all right."

 

"More like fucking impossible," Richie corrects lightly.

 

She watches Seth gesture heatedly with his hands, his flat palm slicing through the air as he emphasises something to Machado. "He's just trying to do his job." She exhales, nodding slowly. "Can't exactly blame him for that."

 

Richie hums vaguely. "Well, today, what he was _trying_ to do was protect you." He pauses, deliberate. "So thanks."

 

She stares up at him, thoroughly confounded. "For what?"

 

Richie shrugs, as Seth claps Machado on the shoulder and starts towards them. "For letting him."

 

He's already moving away before Kate can even think to respond, wrapping his brother up in a farewell embrace, both men affectionately thumping each other on the back.

 

 

 

"We're close," Seth announces fervently as they walk out of the warehouse. "We're _real_ fuckin' close. I can practically _taste_ that backstabbing fucker's blood in the ai—" He cuts himself off abruptly, frowning at the expression of disconcertment still lingering on Kate's face. "What?"

 

She blinks rapidly, glancing at him and back out at the car, just thirty feet away. She nods vaguely. "Nothing. Yeah, we're close."

 

Seth's hand curls around her elbow again, yanking her to a stop. "No, not nothing. He do something to you?" His fingers hook gently but firmly under her chin, tilting it up for a better look at her neck. "Goddammit, Richie, I swear to God—"

 

She jerks her chin out of his grasp, pushing his hand away. "I said I'm _fine_ , Seth." She turns, not chancing a look at his face as she pulls her arm from his hold and starts towards the car. "It's getting late. We should head back."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

She can't really explain why, but she's _antsy_.

 

To begin with, she thinks she's got a pretty good handle on Seth's first impression of her after their disastrous first meeting. _'She's your_ **_problem_ ** _now, Gecko.'_ Didn't exactly take Poirot-level sleuthing for her to figure out the gist of Seth's conversation with the Captain.

 

But after almost a full month of working together, of being _partners_? She's not sure what the hell she's supposed to think.

 

She supposes that, on some sub-conscious level, she's always known from day one that Seth — well, ' _cares'_ isn't exactly the right term. It'd probably be a hell of a lot more accurate to say that on the whole, he'd just largely prefer it if she, you know, _didn't_ die. He's a cop, after all. He's got to care _something_ about human life.

 

It's just that, from his original reaction to being stuck with her, she's gradually realising that she'd never really expected him to _really_ put any legitimate, sincere effort into actually _being_ partners.

 

But he's never once shut her out of the investigation.

 

He makes sure to take her with him every time he leaves the station to pursue something.

 

He always waits to hear her opinion before chasing down or throwing away a lead. (Well. He always waits to hear her opinion _now_ , at least.)

 

He even trusts her with interviewing potential witnesses and informants when he thinks she'd be more effective on her own — like when it's a young man with large eyes and a boyish smile. (He's never far away, though, always watching carefully from mere feet away.)

 

She's never even gotten so much as a patronisingly sexist or misogynistic jibe from him. Not even one of those offhand remarks that most men aren't even _aware_ are sexist or misogynistic. (After nearly five years in law enforcement, she can safely say that that's easily the _most_ surprising thing on the list.)

 

At this point, she feels almost _guilty_ for having felt apprehensive at first.

 

After what has to be hundreds of cumulative hours spent working this case together, Kate sees now that Seth Gecko isn't a mouthy, trigger-happy bastard with a plethora of deep-seated attitude and authority problems.

 

Well. He's not _just_ all that.

 

He's also the guy that reminds her to check her firearm, every single time before they leave the car.

 

He's also the guy that doesn't make fun of her for organising her paperwork with strips of coloured sticky paper. (It's _time-saving_ , okay? Honestly, fuck everyone who calls it 'cute'.)

 

He's also the guy that holds pen or marker caps in his teeth instead of his hand while he scribbles all over their case notes and investigation board with thick, bold strokes.

 

He's also the guy that spends an extra minute idling by the curb while she walks up to her apartment building after another late night out in the field, making sure she's safely indoors before speeding off on his way, tyres squealing against asphalt.

 

He's also the guy that would rather _die_ than drive a standard issue patrol car, sticking doggedly to his restored Mercury Cougar like a mulishly stubborn Little Leaguer with a favourite bat.

 

He's also the guy that brings her an extra coffee from the break room if he's getting one himself. (He never remembers milk, but he always remembers to add in what tastes like at least five sugars.)

 

Still, being _thanked_ by Seth's actual _flesh and blood_ , Richard Gecko _himself_ , is jarring as _fuck._  

 

She can't really explain why.

 

But it just _is_.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"Jacknife Jed's," Seth announces a week later as they walk into the Captain's office. He tosses a folder onto the desk, crossing his arms as he watches the Captain pick it up. "That's it."

 

Burt Ilhicamina thumbs through the file before looking back up at Seth and Kate, standing side by side across from him as they wait for him to absorb the information with twin expressions of grim resolution.

 

"When?" he asks, brows furrowed.

 

"Tomorrow," Seth says shortly. "I'm taking Santanico and Gonzalez too."

 

The Captain nods, looking between them. "Don't fuck this up."

 

Kate's jaw tightens. "We won't, sir."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

"Something's up."

 

Kate doesn't even spare a glance away from her desk computer, keeping her fingers moving steadily over the keyboard. "A lot of things are up, Kisa. Like the raid tonight. Remember that?"

 

"No," Kisa says decisively, assuredly as she turns to perch on the edge of Kate's desk, arms folding over her middle. "Something's up with you two."

 

Kate swallows against the lump materialising in her throat, but she forces herself to keep typing. "You two who?"

 

She doesn't even have to look at Kisa to know that the detective is arching a brow at her. "Really?"

 

Kate sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "How could you tell?"

 

Kisa levels her with an unimpressed look. "You guys've been weird."

 

Kate scowls, nodding sardonically. "Thank you, Kisa, for the thoroughly detailed diagnosis of the problem."

 

The withering look Kisa gives her instantly makes her feel like that little kid that's always throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the mall and suddenly realising that neither Mom nor Dad give a flying fuck.

 

"Look, don't bother asking _me_ what it is," Kate says, holding her palms up. "Honestly? I _wish_ I knew what it was."

 

Kisa raises her brow slowly. "What?"

 

Kate tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, catching her lower lip under her teeth. "That's the thing. I don't exactly know what is it specifically that's… uh, that's _up_."

 

Kisa leans back, her expression perfectly neutral. "And over the last few days that things have been _weird_ , you haven't thought about, I don't know, _asking_ him?"

 

Kate gives her a despairing but incredulous look. "You do know who we're talking about here, right?"

 

Kisa pauses. "Good point."

 

Kate fidgets with a pen on her desk, her tongue darting out to run nervously across her lip. "Plus, uh, he's not— that is, I don't _think_ — I mean—" She breaks off, letting the pen drop from her fingers. "I think the problem here is me."

 

Kisa merely looks at her. "Sorry. What was that?"

 

Kate exhales, glancing around the half empty bullpen to make sure no one's close enough to listen in, by accident or otherwise. Her gaze sticks on the door of Briefing Room B, where Seth and Freddie are currently enclosed.

 

"I think I'm the problem," she repeats slowly, before letting her gaze swing back to meet Kisa's. "Not Seth."

 

Kisa blinks, her expression not budging one bit from its perfectly schooled blankness. "What."

 

"I seriously don't know _why_ ," Kate bursts out, somehow remembering to keep her voice low. "I mean, I didn't _do_ anything. Neither did he, he didn't _do_ anything, but then Richie said that _thing_ and I—"

 

"Richie?" Kisa repeats, her brows drawn tight. "You saw Richard?"

 

"Oh," Kate says, shaking her head to regain her composure. "Yeah. Three days ago."

 

"He's in town?"

 

"Temporarily, yes." She pauses at Kisa's arrested expression. As far as she can remember from what Seth's told her, Kisa and Freddie are the only two in the precinct who know of his brother. _Really_ know of him, not just the fact that Seth Gecko has a kid brother who lives out of town. "You… know him. Don't you?"

 

Kisa's gaze flickers over to her, and then off into space. "You could say that," she says finally. She blinks, focusing back on Kate. "What did he say?"

 

Kate studies her face, making a mental note to continue this line of questioning some other time before taking a deep breath and blowing it out. "Nothing, really. He just said— he said Seth protects me. Or something."

 

She looks up, frowning at Kisa's carefully contemplative expression. "Shit. That looks bad. Is that bad?"

 

Kisa shrugs, levelling her with a thoughtful look. "Depends."

 

"On what?"

 

"On whether you two sort this shit out before tonight," Kisa says flatly, getting up from the desk. "Look, I've known Seth for years. He's one hell of a cop. I trust him. Do I always _like_ him? _Fuck_ no. Would I follow him into any fight? Fuck yes, no questions asked." She pauses, her gaze narrowing. " _But,_  if both of you going to be distracted with this all night, then I think Freddie and I would both much rather know what we're signing up for. Especially if our already sizeable chances of getting shot are getting significantly bigger."

 

She cocks her brow at Kate one last time, before pivoting smoothly on her heel and walking away.

 

"Oh, great," Kate mutters when her voice returns to her throat, turning back to her computer. "Good talk, Kisa, thanks. No pressure, Fuller."

 

No pressure at all.

 

 

 

She springs up out of her chair when she sees Freddie emerge from the briefing room, moving determinedly towards the door before she can lose her nerve.

 

"For the last time, Freddie," Seth growls when he hears her enter. "We're not going by the fucking—" He stops, blinking at her before recovering, his scowl slipping smoothly back into place. "Princess. To what do I owe the honour?"

 

She takes a deep breath, closing the door behind her. "I think we should talk." Frankly, she's a little proud of herself for the unwavering steadiness of her voice.

 

He waves dismissively, turning his back on her to scribble something on the cluttered whiteboard. "We're talking later. Briefing's in thirty minutes."

 

"That's not what I meant," she says, taking two steps forward.

 

He scoffs, not bothering to turn and face her. "Oh, yeah? What'd you mean, then?"

 

She hesitates, unsure of how to turn the knotted tangle inside of her into comprehensive words. Finally, she grits her teeth, and shakes the hair out of her face.

 

"You need to stop trying to protect me," she says, channelling all of her focus towards keeping her tone firm when she sees him go completely still, the marker hovering above the board. "I didn't spend four years undercover with any gangs or mobs — but I'm a _cop_ , Seth, just like you. Stop trying to protect me, because I'm not your goddamn _problem_. I can take care of myself."

 

The silence that follows echoes in her ears, ricocheting violently off the walls of her mind as she struggles to read Seth's body language. But he doesn't move, he doesn't speak, and as far as she can tell, he doesn't even _breathe_ , which, what the fuck?

 

Suddenly, he replaces the cap on the marker, setting it down on the little ledge holder at the base of the board.  

 

"I know."

 

She blinks, momentarily thrown off her game. Of all the responses she's been anticipating, that one hadn't exactly been featuring very high on the list.

 

"You know," she repeats warily.

 

He turns, looking at her with an expression she can't quite quantify.

 

"Kate," he says plainly, "the first night we met, you had me down on the ground in about ten seconds flat. You have any idea how many times that's happened to me in the last twelve years?"

 

She shifts her weight, discomfited by the unexpected turn in the conversation. "I don't know. One?"

 

"Try none," he replies flatly, arms crossed over his chest.

 

She draws a sharp breath. "Okay," she persists, folding her own arms across her front to mirror his stance, "then why does it feel like you've spent the last eight weeks trying to _shield_ me, like I'm just some _kid_?"

 

"I don't _know_!" He scrubs a hand over his face. "I'm just— I've never had a _partner_ before, okay? I don't know how to—" He stops again, shaking his head. " _Fuck_. Okay, well, I used to run jobs with Richie, back when we were just kids." He laughs, harsh and sardonic. "Hey, we were pretty good, too. Made a bit of a name for ourselves on the streets."

 

The smile fades from his lips. "But then one day, we got busted, and I took the fall, and the Captain — fuckin' _Burt_ , whatever, he wasn't the Captain back then — he offered me a deal. I took it, did two years in the clink instead of five, and started at the academy the day I got out."

 

"No breaks," she says softly.

 

He shrugs, the movement jerky and hard. "Not much room for breaks, no."

 

"That's why you got sent undercover," she realises aloud. "You already had — history."

 

He waves a hand in a deceptively careless circle. "Easier to believe a rotten kid staying rotten than a good cop turning bad."

 

She exhales, taking a pointed step forward. "You're _not_ rotten, Seth. Don't get me wrong," she says loudly when he starts to speak. "You're brash, and rude, and arrogant, and you _never_ listen to anything other than the sound of your own _voice_ —"

 

"Tell me how you _really_ feel now," he mutters, a hint of incredulity edging his expression.

 

She rolls her eyes. "But you're _good_ ," she says, gentle but emphatic. "You're a good cop, and you're a good _man_."

 

He shakes his head roughly, not meeting her gaze. "Kate, you'd see the good in just about anything." He swings out with a fist, rapping his knuckles against the nearest table. "You'd probably see the good in this fuckin' piece of wood if you wanted to."

 

"Bullshit," she snaps. "The Captain sees it. Kisa and Freddie see it too. You _act_ like you don't care, like you're just looking out for yourself — but you fight for the things that are important to you. You fight for what's _right_. And I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but no amount of cussing people out, or telling everyone to shut up, or threatening to shoot anyone in the face is going to change that."

 

They stare each other down for a good few seconds, the room silent save for the sounds of their breathing.

 

Suddenly, he huffs a disbelieving laugh, looking at her like she's a book he's read a hundred times before but is only just starting to understand.

 

"Fuck, princess," he says, shaking his head. "You always this aggressive with the moral pep talks?"

 

She relaxes somewhat, feeling comfortable enough to shoot him a dirty look. "Only when the subject's as hardheaded as you."

 

He barks another laugh. "Good to know, I guess." His expression sobers a little then, his gaze settling firmly on her face. "Look, I get that you're an independent woman and all that, but don't expect me to just sit back if you're seriously in trouble, though, all right? Not my fuckin' style."

 

"Right back at you," she retorts, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Including the part about the independent woman and everything."

 

 

 

She supposes that whatever she did, it must have worked.

 

Seth doesn't seem to be behaving awkwardly around her anymore. She doesn't feel any undercurrent of tension between them, either.

 

But mostly she can tell it's worked, because Kisa doesn't glare at her all throughout the briefing with Seth and Freddie.

 

The other detective merely nods at her before striding out with Freddie, both of them heading for the gun room to pick up some extra equipment for tonight.

 

Seth looks at her as they pack their files up, one brow arched. "You ready, partner?"

 

She nods firmly, meeting his gaze dead on. "Ready."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Nothing much changes after they put Carlos Madrigal away.

 

Well, nothing much changes between Kate and Seth, that is. They still work as closely as they always have, now firmly and irrevocably accustomed to relying on each other.

 

Outside of that, a couple of minor changes _do_ eventually pop up.

 

"You're wanted by the Nine Lords," Richie announces when they walk into his office a week later.

 

" _Fuck_ me," Seth instantly groans.

 

"When you say 'the Nine Lords'," Kate begins, brows furrowed.

 

"I mean _the_ Nine Lords, yes," Richie finishes, nodding. He hands out two glasses — scotch for Seth, water for Kate.

 

"That's… not ideal," Kate says tactfully.

 

"It is very much _not_ fucking ideal, I'll say," Seth gripes.

 

Richie tilts his head. "Do you want to hear the good news or not?"

 

It turns out that the 'good news' refers to Richie's promotion. "I'm the new Carlos, brother," he announces with a lopsided grin. His smile freezes in place at Seth's expression. "But, like, you know. Less of a selfish asshole. And with, like, close to zero backstabbing."

 

In addition to that, thanks to Richie's persuasive efforts, most of the Nine Lords have agreed to let Seth off the hook. Kate's privately unsurprised to learn that all of them basically hated Carlos Madrigal anyway.

 

"Now for the _not_ so good news," Richie says once he's thrown back the last of his scotch. "The one Lord that still kinda wants to teach you a lesson is also kind of _maybe_ the most powerful one." He grins brightly at Seth's dark glare. "But — silver lining! — the rest of the Lords totally hate him, too. So the chances of any of them helping him get rid of you are pretty close to zilch."

 

" _Pretty_ close?" Seth repeats, jaw grinding. " _How_ close?"

 

Richie shrugs, pouring himself another drink. "I'd say you're good, brother. Just be sure to get Malvado before he gets you."

 

Seth shakes his head. "Yeah, sure, easy," he mutters, pushing his empty glass towards his brother for a refill. "Like fuckin' pie."

 

Kate nods readily. "Nothing we can't handle. Right, partner?"

 

She can't explain it, but seeing the slow smile that spreads across Seth's face gives her a peculiar feeling — like warmth itself, blooming all throughout her insides.

 

"Right," he says, clinking his glass to hers.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It's another full month after they put Amancio Malvado away before Seth finally musters up the courage to ask her out on a real date.

 

They finish out the night right back in his car. The only difference is, this time, they're on top of a hill, with no binoculars and no suspects to look out for — just a bag full of curly fries tucked between them and a sky full of twinkling stars spread out before them.

 

Also, this time, there's a fair bit of making out involved.

 

Not that she's complaining, of course.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://caramelkru.tumblr.com) is officially a sethkate blog who am i even trying to kid anymore
> 
> kudos/comments always 110% appreciated =D
> 
> also, you can find an aesthetic i made for this fic [here!](http://caramelkru.tumblr.com/post/153180291521)


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